


Songbirds Can Wear Armor

by danceswithhamsters01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jowan - Freeform, cullen rutherford - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Sevarra Amell never really enjoyed going to Chantry sermons in the tower as an apprentice. Usually, she just went to get out of chores for a little while. One fateful day, and wonderful singing voice, changed that.





	Songbirds Can Wear Armor

The weekly sermon in the tower’s small chapel held no great appeal to her, but it was an excuse to get out of lessons and chores for a short while. The previous Revered Mother had a voice that would’ve made even the deaf wince at its squeakiness. While the newest Revered Mother had an undeniably pleasant voice, she insisted on harping on a select few subjects, particularly the evils of magic misused. Sevarra did not like the new Revered Mother, but she wasn’t in the mood to scrub pots that day, either. Given the choice between sermon or scrubbing pots, the sermon usually won.

She was running a bit late that particular morning and had to frantically scan for a free space on one of the pews before things got started. Her favorite spot in a back corner, where she’d let herself daydream while appearing alert, was already filled. There was only one space open toward the back, near a templar. She tried to avoid giving them any reason to pay any particular attention to her ever since that incident years ago where the Knight-Commander had had to intervene to save her and her old mistress. Oh well, Ser What’s-His-Face would just have to deal with one little apprentice nearby for the sermon.

She whispered a soft ‘pardon me’ and settled on to the pew, next to the templar. He dipped his head full of golden curls in greeting, a very soft smile accompanying it. He didn’t look like any of the usual ones she saw around. Was he one of the new ones? He certainly looked much younger than the other ones in the tower!

Thoughts of trying to place a name to the fellow sitting next to her faded away as the Revered Mother waved for the congregation to rise for the first hymn. The apprentice suppressed her desire the grunt in disgust at the song selected, but quickly dug the words from her memory.

_Shadows fall_

_And hope has fled_  
Steel your heart  
The dawn will come

Sweet Maker! Someone was actually making that hymn sound pretty!

_The night is long_

_And the path is dark_  
Look to the sky  
For one day soon  
The dawn will come

That voice, a man’s, it made her knees feel weak. Who was it?

_The shepherd's lost_

_And his home is far_  
Keep to the stars  
The dawn will come

Wait… the templar next to her? He had that lovely voice? Her cheeks started burning and she lost her focus for the duration of the chorus. She made an effort to try to sound nicer on the next verse.

_Bare your blade_

_And raise it high_  
Stand your ground  
The dawn will come

She sank into the pew after the hymn finished, hoping no one noticed her blushing. She lost track of what the sermon was actually about that day. Her thoughts were all following one path: She HAD to find out what Ser Pretty-Voice’s name was.

\---

“Why are you skulking about?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the voice behind her.

“Maker’s sake! Jowan, you nearly scared me to death! Keep it down!” she hissed.

“Why do you need to whisper?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t want him to hear, obviously!” she replied, tilting her head toward a templar who was guarding the library.

“Why? Are you going to do something stupid? Or did you already do it and not let me come along for the fun?” he chuckled.

The library was empty, save for the templar on guard duty and the pair of hidden apprentices. The templar tried to stifle a yawn of boredom. After looking side to side and finding no one around, he began to hum a tune to himself.

Jowan flicked his gaze from the guard to his friend. A small sigh escaped her lips as she stared at the templar, seemingly transfixed by the performance. _Uh oh…_

“Isn’t that the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard?” she whispered.

“You do know that’s a templar, right? You haven’t gone blind in addition to obviously mad, have you?” he hissed. “Besides, I thought you fancied girls?”

She scowled briefly, not taking her eyes off the templar. “I like many things.”

\---

She still hated the weekly sermons. The Revered Mother was not keen on covering many parts of the Chant. She went anyways. The hymns more than made it worth her while. She had a new favorite place to sit. He seemed to save her a place when he could.

She still hadn’t discovered what his name was. Part of her almost didn’t want to. Why ruin the mystery of the nice fellow with the golden hair and voice?

Ah, but there was something Master had always said about mysteries. They should be discovered, unwrapped, the unknown transmuted into known. He also said that the pursuit of knowledge was one of the finest uses of one’s time.

Mysteries were made to be solved, weren’t they?

At the end of service that day, she almost broke into new territory. Almost.

As people began rising from the pews and filing out of the chapel, they’d both stood at the same time and nearly bumped into each other. Each stood and stammered a few moments, offering timid apologies and shy smiles. Both looked like they wanted to say more, but alas, courage was lacking. That and an impatient Jowan called to her from the hall.

After the mystery templar had strolled away to wherever his post was that day, Jowan shook his head.

“Still mooning after that fellow, I see. I’d tell you that you’re crazy, but after years of hearing it, I doubt it will stick this time.”

“I am NOT mooning after anything,” she stuck her tongue out at him in reply.

“Right, right. And those breathy sighs, dreamy eyes, and goofy smiles are just an unfortunate side-effect of working in the alchemy lab, I suppose? Oh, and let’s not forget about hiding in shadows just so you can hear him get bored enough to sing or hum,” he snorted.

“I happen to be the sort who appreciates the fine arts,” she said, playfully pointing her nose into the air.

“ ‘Art.’ Hmm. Is that what they call staring holes into the general vicinity of his hindquarters?” he grinned.

That earned him a slug to the arm. _Worth it_ , he thought.

“Anyways. Wesley accidentally set his hair on fire. Again. We have to cover his turn in the nursery. Again,” he sighed.

She groaned and slumped her shoulders. “Let’s go, then. But if one more kid tries to electrocute me, there will be _words to be had.”_

\---

Sevarra finally found something she disliked more than scrubbing pots. It involved screaming mage-children who’d been given excessive sweets. Screaming mage-children who thought fire was pretty and wanted to play with it. She lost count of the fires she doused out after ten. She was beginning to wonder if Wesley’s “accident” was intentional on his part. She almost couldn’t blame him, if so.

Claiming to need to use the privy, she’d made an escape into the hall for a few minutes to let her frayed nerves attempt to settle into something other than near-terror. Leaning her back against the wall, she slowly slid down into a sitting position with a long sigh.

“Rough day, huh?” a voice chuckled.

She looked up. _Oh no._ It was him. Ser Pretty-Voice. _Voice. Use your voice, idiot,_ she thought to herself.

“You could say that.” _Maker’s balls, what a fine time for the knees to go weak,_ she cursed internally.

He offered a hand up, which she took. “Guessing you don’t have any little brothers or sisters,” he chuckled.

“Not to my knowledge,” she shrugged.

There was a brief flicker of… something in his eyes. Sadness? Pity? It was quickly shoved away by a smile. “Sounds like you lot are in need of back up.”

“Alas, Ser Isabet is nowhere in sight,” she said with a slight whine.

“Oh, she’s on a different floor today. Something… important came up. I’m filling in for her.”

“Ah, so we’re rescued by the brave Ser…?” she asked.

“Cullen,” he replied.

One mystery solved.


End file.
